


How to get sweaty and mostly naked with Peter Parker

by MetaAllu



Category: Spider-Man (Comicverse)
Genre: Face-Sitting, Fingerfucking, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Trans Male Character, Trans Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 16:50:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13194411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MetaAllu/pseuds/MetaAllu
Summary: or "Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"Peter's hot boyfriend wants him to sit on his face.  That's it.





	How to get sweaty and mostly naked with Peter Parker

**Author's Note:**

> Skye belongs to [Titboys](http://archiveofourown.org/users/titboys/profile).

“Hey, Peter?” They’re sitting on the sofa together.  Harry has gone off to MJ’s for the night after some cajoling earlier that day on Peter’s part which eventually turned into ‘Please,  _ Harry.  I’m having a boy over.’ _  They have managed to carve their way through at least a dozen boxes of Chinese food between them, which would be obscene if it weren’t for Peter’s superhero diet and Skye’s sportsball man diet.

“Mmm?” Peter says, tucking his face further into Skye’s chest.  They’re half-watching Star Trek, but Skye’s fingers are pushing through his hair, and it is  _ very  _ distracting.

“I’ve been thinking about it, and, um,” For a stupid second, Peter worries he’s about to get dumped, then he glances up and sees the colour on Skye’s cheeks.  Oh, maybe not.  “You should sit on my face.”

Peter can feel heat spreading, lighting up his cheeks, his neck, his ears.  He opens his mouth and then closes it, trying to swallow around the sudden rush of arousal and embarrassment, a cocktail which dooms him to being on the receiving end of a wicked grin from Skye, who leans in almost lazily, blocking out Peter’s view of the television, the hand that had been in his hair landing on the sofa, half trapping Peter between the sofa and Skye’s amazing tits.  He’s gone from hesitant and mildly embarrassed to downright predatory in a matter of seconds.  He runs his teeth along the shell of Peter’s ear.

“Come on, baby.  You know I love how you taste.  I wanna get you off like that.  Let you grab the headboard and grind down on me.  Let you use my tongue, suck your dick.  Wanna fuck my mouth?”

The air leaves Peter’s lungs all at once, and he makes a noise, high and whiny.  Skye’s other hand slides along his inner thigh and then he’s undoing Peter’s pants, leaving lazy kisses on his neck.

“Shit,” Peter gasps out, then lifts his hips when Skye tugs one of his belt loops.  He tugs the jeans off Peter’s slim hips, then grabs him and flips them so Peter’s in his lap in a sweater and tightie whities.  Peter fumbles for purchase, putting his hands on Skye’s shoulders, barely keeping himself from face planting.  His face is still red, even more red than before if that’s possible.  He digs his teeth into his bottom lip and then glances up at Skye, who is grinning at him.

“C’mere,” he croons, crooking his finger, and Peter goes without further prompting, sinking into Skye and kissing him.  Skye’s hands wander down to his ass.  Peter pushes into his hands, and then grinds down moments later.  He’s already wet and eager, desperate for friction, and the best way to get it is to just rub himself up against Skye’s lap and the growing tent in his pants.  The eager, squirming grind of his hips is certainly doing wonders in that department.

Skye’s hands on his ass squeeze, and he can feel the other man’s breath hitching a little.  Peter grinds down gain, and Skye’s hands scramble for his hips as he bucks up into him, the heavy warmth of his dick rubbing up against Peter through their clothes.

“Shit, baby,” Skye groans.  He loves it like this, loves Peter in his lap, squirming and horny for it.  He likes to tease, making lewd comments about how wet Peter gets when it soaks through and gets little streaks on his pants.  Today, though, he’s impatient, and one of those hands moves from his ass to push his briefs to the side.  Then, he’s pushing a single finger up into Peter and Peter fucking moans for it, unable to keep from clenching at the tease of a single callused finger.

“Can’t wait to have this wet pussy on my face,” Skye whispers against Peter’s mouth, running his tongue over Peter’s bottom lip.  He crooks his finger then pushes in roughly enough to make Peter yelp against his mouth.  “That’s it.  Get it all ready and sloppy for me.” He pushes his finger in again and Peter’s fingers scramble for purchase in his shirt, and then he pulls back just far enough to say “Bedroom,” on a gasping breath.

Skye’s finger slips slowly out, slowly enough to leave Peter aching for it back, then he grabs Peter’s pants, tossing them over his shoulder before grabbing Peter by his thighs, getting up and walking past the kitchen and Harry’s room to Peter’s.  The door squeaks open.  Skye kicks it shut behind him and then walks over to the bed, setting Peter carefully down onto it.  He throws Peter’s abandoned pants down onto the floor and then pulls his shirt up over his head before undoing his pants and taking those off, too.  His dick is straining in his boxers, bobbing as he crawls onto Peter’s bed.  He gives Peter a lazy kiss, and then he lays on his back and waggles his eyebrows.

“Please,” Peter groans, covering his face with his hands.  He looks ridiculous when he does that. Skye laughs, then reaches out and pulls the waistband of Peter’s briefs.

“Gonna need to take those off if you’re gonna ride my face.”

“I was getting to it,” Peter defends himself, even as he feels himself blushing harder.  Skye hums in that way that indicates he does not believe him, but knows better than to say as much.  Peter rolls his eyes as hard as he can, and then he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his briefs, pulling them down.  Skye’s eyes trail the journey of his briefs, which really just prompts him to pull them off faster.  He feels stupid, sitting on the bed in nothing but a sweater with Skye staring at him, eyes wandering over his thighs, and then lazily up between them.  Peter toys with the hem of his shirt, considers pulling up it up over his head, then just grumbles and straddles Skye’s chest.

Grinning up at him, Skye skates his fingers over his legs, one moving to bracket his hip.  The other one moves between them, and he pushes two fingers in this time.  He’s insatiable, always touching and eager for it.

“Skye,” Peter protests weakly, thighs already shaking from the merciless curve of his boyfriend’s fingers.

“Mmm, I know I’m the one who asked and all, but in a minute, okay?  Want you soaking before you do it.  Smear it on me cause you can’t help it.  Too wet not to.”

He wants to protest, insist Skye is being overly particular, and also there is the fact that the longer he’s not already doing it, the more nervous he gets about the idea.  What if he’s too heavy and Skye gets squished or something?  What if he does it wrong?  Can you sit on a face wrong?

Apparently noticing the distracted, concerned look on Peter’s face, Skye gives his ass a light a smack.  “Hey, genius.  You with me here?”

“What?” Peter says creatively.  “Yes.  Sorry, yes.”

“Really?  Cause it looked like you were staring at the headboard worrying, and that’s just really not what I’m aiming for.  Like, ideally you’d be humping my fingers, but I’ll take those sweet little gasps of yours, too.”

Peter stares.  Skye looks back at him calmly.

“I…”

“Mmmhm.  C’mon, relax.  Come kiss me if you’ll feel better.”

Peter does, leaning down and draping his body over Skye’s so he can slide his mouth over Skye’s, effectively distracted from his anxiety.  Skye’s tongue glides lazily over his, and he moans, clenching down around Skye’s fingers, and then he moans again as they rub against him.  Grinning, Skye moves his fingers, lazy and careful, waiting until Peter’s kissing starts to get sloppier before pulling back and, with no shortage of showboating, licks his fingers clean.

“Okay, o _ kay _ ,” Peter huffs, and then he smacks Skye’s arm lightly, carefully.  Skye chuckles and puts his arm down, then looks tactfully out the window as Peter climbs the rest of the way up his body.  He wants to watch him blush, but he also wants Peter on his face  _ sometime  _ this year, so he settles for not watching, and then giving a happy little groan as Peter hovers hesitantly above him.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, and then he takes Peter by the hips and tugs him closer, closer until he’s fully seated, some of his slick smearing on his chin as he fidgets and settles. Once he goes still, Skye’s tongue slides out and licks a slow, lazy line along him, licking up some of the wetness he made with his devilish fingers.  He licks again, then nudges Peter with his hands a little until he shifts just far back enough for Skye to wrap his mouth around his dick, which is already flushed a dusky pink from blood.  Skye doesn’t have to say a word for Peter to know how perfectly content he is to suck, push his tongue in a little past the hood to tease.  Ever helpful as he is, however, Skye moans against him and Peter grabs onto the headboard, immediately tucking his red hot face against the crook of his arm.

For a while, it’s relatively quiet, nothing but the sound of Skye’s greedy sucks and licks and Peter’s soft gasps of breath.  They’re there for so long, actually, that Peter’s thighs start to burn a little, so he lowers himself down a little more, rocking his weight back more onto the balls of his feet, and Skye moans.  His hands move away from where they were--one rubbing Peter’s thigh and one at his side--and instead move to touch.  One just grabs Peter’s allegedly incredible ass, but the other slips forward to wriggle a finger in.

You see, Peter is predictable.  He likes penetration.  Like, he  _ really  _ likes it.  He can’t get off without it, something about him that Skye is a very vocal fan of, so when a finger slides in, Peter clamps down.  Skye groans around his dick, then flicks his tongue down to lick along Peter’s folds as his fingers moves slowly, clumsily inside of him.  It’s not the best angle for fingering, so--because he is just so very generous--Peter shifts again, moving so that Skye’s tongue can get inside him.

Sure, it’s not wholly unselfish, but the way that Skye is moaning under him as he pushes his tongue in makes it pretty clear that he’s not the only one who likes it.  At least like this Skye can’t talk dirty.  All he can do is communicate his enthusiasm with his mouth, his kisses and licks getting louder the more spit and wetness gather.

Peter fists his hands in Skye’s hair now, unable to help himself.  That earns him another moan.  He shakes a little, feeling weak and needy as Skye’s tongue moves, more and more insistent.  Then, with a muffled groan, he smacks Peter’s ass. Yelping in surprise, Peter lifts his hips away.  Skye looks up at him, dazed and flushed, face wet.

“Jerk yourself off, okay?” he says, out of breath.  He licks his wet lips.  “Wanna make you cum like this.”

Peter feels stupid hot, and if winter weren’t right outside taunting him, he’d think it was the temperature of his apartment.  He nods, and Skye grins, tugging him back down with an eager groan.  Peter chews on his bottom lip, tearing off the skin as he reaches a hand down to touch himself.  Skye is merciless, deadly serious about getting Peter off like this, and it doesn’t take much longer before Peter’s got a hand fisted in Skye’s hair again, making little, overeager noises.

His orgasm is strong enough to make his toes tingle, and he finds himself grinding down without thinking about it, fucking himself on Skye’s tongue through the trembling of his body.  He has to physically pull himself away when it becomes evident Skye has no intention of stopping.  His legs tremble as he jerks away, flushed and shaking.

Grinning, Skye rolls over onto his side.  His cheeks are flushed, hair a mess, and his face is… wet.  He wipes it up with the back of his hand, then shifts closer to kiss Peter’s neck.

“Baby,” he croons, one hand creeping onto Peter’s thigh.  Peter groans and swats at him.  He noses at him, so Peter pulls on his ear.  “Ow,” Skye says, not sounding at all like it hurts.  “C’mon.”

There is a couple of seconds of silence.  He considers.  This isn’t the first time Skye’s wanted more.  He’s insatiable, and with a little bit of experimenting, they’d figured out just how much Peter can take (it’s a lot) and how to make it so good he can’t breathe.  He chews on his bottom lip contemplatively, then says “You’re trying to kill me,” practically under his breath.

Skye chuckles and tilts his head up to kiss the smaller man.

“Yes?” he murmurs softly, seeking confirmation before he continues.

“Yes,” Peter echoes, and then Skye kisses him again.  The hand on his thigh stays where it is, the other hand coming up to run through Peter’s hair as they kiss.  Peter can definitely taste himself on Skye’s lips.  It’d be impossible not to, but he doesn’t really mind.

Skye’s fingers continue carding through his hair for several long lazy minutes, and then the hand on his thigh slips higher.  It skips over his dick completely, knowing that’s a good way to get kicked in the face, and continues past to Peter’s spit-slick hole

Two fingers circle at first, sometimes barely teasing their way inside, little more than lazy pressure, but with as much blood southbound as there is, it’s enough to make Peter fidget, make him hyperaware of what Skye’s doing.  So once he finally does push his fingers all the way in, Peter moans in response, biting one of Skye’s kissed red lips.

“Fuck, you’re so hot like this,” Skye breathes, delighted by Peter’s oversensitive little twitches and moans.  Peter leans in and kisses him with sloppy eagerness, arms wrapping around his neck.  Skye crooks his fingers more firmly, and Peter’s toes dig into the sheets, scrabbling for purchase while he squeezes down, breath coming out in punchy little whimpers.

Peter’s desperation only encourages his boyfriend, has him thrusting his fingers with purpose before too long.  Peter’s easy to get strung out and shaking for it, but Skye is dedicated to his craft nonetheless, being sure to give him nothing less than a hard push up against his g-spot with each merciless thrust of his fingers.

Peter’s body goes tense, hips arched up off the bed as he gasps and moans into Skye’s mouth.  He’s barely kissing anymore, too wrapped up in his own pleasure to make his mouth do what it needs to.  He’s tense, twisted up at what should be an impossible angle, or at least an uncomfortable one, but Peter has no trouble at all with it, not even seeming to be aware of how twisted up he is, straining to press himself further onto Skye’s fingers.

“God damn.  So desperate for it, baby.  Love watching you like this,” Skye half growls, and then he shifts, moving so he can straddle Peter, fingers pausing.  “Lemme get you off.”

Peter stares up at him, pupils blown, face red, chest heaving as he drags in desperate breaths of air.  Skye’s dick is straining in his boxers, pressed up against Peter’s hip, and he rocks himself against the soft skin a few times without even thinking about it before bringing his mind back to the task at hand.

The broader man licks his thumb slowly, then reaches down to rub Peter’s dick with it lightly, gauging his reaction.  Peter doesn’t kick him, so that’s a good sign.

“Gonna let me get you off?” he asks, sounding more out of breath than he means to.  He likes this way too much.  He groans when Peter nods and then presses his thumb more firmly to Peter’s dick, watching the way he’s instantly straining not to squirm away from the painful pleasure.

If Peter wanted to push him off, he could.  Even with Skye on top of him, twice his size, Peter’s super strength is something to be contended with, and the only reason Skye is still where he is is because Peter is forcing himself still, forcing himself to take the overstimulation.  He’s breathing hard, every inhale a desperate gasp as Skye works his dick with his fingers, and Skye watches a few over-exerted tears slip free as he’s overcome by his orgasm, shaking hard enough that Skye has to up on his knees to keep from getting tossed off, fingers insistent until Peter actually does squirm away, eyes flying open, staring up at him with blown pupils and bitten up lips.

Grinning, Skye leans down to kiss his neck and then his lips.

“Soo…”

With a groan, Peter shoves his face away.


End file.
